


The Killer In You

by MoonAndPomegranate



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark Stiles, M/M, Nogitsune Stiles, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 08:47:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonAndPomegranate/pseuds/MoonAndPomegranate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek has a conversation with Stiles and his shadow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Killer In You

**Author's Note:**

> Just a bit of angst to tide us over until Monday.  
> This was in part inspired by a Tumblr post here: http://friendlyfangirl88.tumblr.com/post/76310013971/so-all-i-want-in-the-world-right-now-is-a-scene and I did use a line from that, so that's where the credit goes.

Derek got the call in the middle of the night. He had been sleeping fitfully, half awake long before Sheriff Stilinski called him.

“He’s asking for you,” was all the Sheriff said.

“I’ll be right over,” and he hung up, already halfway out the door.

It was a strange call to get in the middle of the night, in the middle of this night in particular and Derek didn’t know whether or not to speed on the drive to the station. No one was in danger, not really, but Derek couldn’t shake the panic in his veins. _Something was wrong_.

But of course, that had been true all day, and nothing had changed. There was a feeling of unreality as he drove at the speed limit and thought of the feeling of Stiles’ lim body in his arms.

Hours before, he had left a tranquilized Stiles cuffed in a cell, in the care of Scott and the Sheriff. Tracking him through the reserve had been exhausting. The scents Stiles left behind had been confusing and strange. Stiles was smart and apparently the nogitsune was even smarter. A few scent trails had ended with a shirt or socks and an emptied bottle of Stiles’ usual brand of spray deodorant. Eventually, they had come across him wading down a frigid stream, his lips purple, and his eyes unseeing. Allison had taken him down with her father’s tranq rifle before anyone could approach him.

Derek had taken it upon himself to carry Stiles’ the long mile to the waiting cruiser. His father had cuffed him to the door while they all stood by and watched.

“Isn’t this thing giving him night terrors?” Isaac had asked.

The sheriff had nodded. “He keeps waking up screaming.”

“And now he can’t wake up. We just trapped him in his head with that thing.”

Scott had put his hand to Isaac’s shoulder. “Better that than dead or…”

He hadn’t finished his sentence but they knew what he meant. Better Stiles be stuck in his own head with a dark spirit than out abetting homicidal maniacs. Better mad than a murderer. They said little as they drove to the station, carried Stiles into a holding cell and left to let his father change him into dry clothes. It had an air of ridiculousness to Derek, still, how helpless and small Stiles had seemed as they took him down and secured him.

He entered the station again, the sky beginning to glow grey. He nodded at the deputy on duty and tried not to think about what they had told her about the Sheriff’s son being locked up. The Sheriff was standing in the hall across from the cells. He didn’t say a word as Derek grasped his shoulder, just handed Derek the keys. Derek was struck again by how undemonic Stiles appeared right now. He was on the floor of the cell, cuffed to one the bars, curled in on himself. His skin looked thin and translucent, like parchment paper, blue veins standing out on his wrists and around his eyes. His heartbeat stuttered with anxiety. Derek’s instincts were telling him to _protect_ Stiles, who was pack, who was on his pack's territory, who had protected Derek more than he had ever deserved.

“Stiles?” he asked, tentative.

“Oh thank god,” Stiles whispered, not looking up from his knees, “Can my dad hear us?”

Derek drew closer, sat down outside the cell so he could watch Stiles’ face. “This really isn’t the time to be hiding anything from him.”

“Yes, yes it is, listen to me. I don’t have a lot of time.” Stiles’ voice was thin and reedy.

“For what?”

Stiles looked up at him finally with wide eyes. He looked hunted and Derek’s instincts were wild with the need to remove the invisible threat.  “You have to listen to me, okay? I need you,” Stiles gulped at the air, his heartbeat pounding in the air between them, “I need you to...”

He was inching closer to Derek on the floor, posture awkward and neck exposed. Even though his head only tilted a little, Derek, at first, recognized it as a sign of submission. But he wasn’t the alpha anymore and there was no reason for Stiles to show him submission now when he hadn’t ever before, no reason why -

Derek’s chest clenched as he realized why Stiles had called him here. “No,” Derek said, “Don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare.”

A tear ran down Stiles’ face.  “It’s strong, Derek, it’s stronger than me. Than you. But I’m not...I’m not _strong_. You can kill me and then it won’t…”

Derek was speechless for a moment, his horror swallowing up any possible response. Stiles had inadvertently been witness to the lowest points in Derek’s life - the day after Laura’s death, Kate’s return, Boyd, he never thought he would do the same for Stiles. But he had never, even at his worst, thought to ask for death. He was too much wolf; the drive for survival was too strong. But Stiles was human, much too human for Derek’s liking most of the time. He wondered how long Stiles had been sitting here before he had worked up the nerve to ask for Derek. He wondered why Stiles had asked for him at all.

Finally, Derek asked, “How do you I know this is you asking for this and not the nogitsune trying to kill you?”

Stiles looked up, past Derek’s face, like he saw something else in the empty room, something that wasn’t really there. “No, that’s not what it wants. It wants me alive. But it’s going to kill you. I think it’s going to kill...everyone. So you’ve got to -”

“Forget it, Stiles. I’m not going to kill you.”

“No!” there was real fear in Stiles’ protest as he bared his neck again, “No, you have to. Just….the jugular, with your claws. I’ll barely feel it.”

“Why would you ask me that, Stiles? Why would you even think it?”

“Because you...you’re practical. You always are. Scott would never, but I thought you would understand.”

Derek closed his eyes against the accusation. Closed his eyes, which were blue again, cold and merciless blue. He was hit with a familiar wave of longing, the desperate desire to be anyone else but Derek Hale.

“I’m not going to kill you,” he said to the darkness behind his eyelids. Stiles gave out a pathetic sob and it echoed in the silence.

Derek could tell the exact moment when the nogitsune took over, because Stiles’ heartbeat slowed to a steady _beat-beat_ , _beat-beat_ from one moment to the next, but like an idiot he asked, “Stiles?”

“What is it, Derek?” Stiles said his name in a tone he’d never heard before, like it was a curse, a malediction. It was the first interaction any of them had had with the nogitsune and already Derek’s hackles were raised. He stood and Stiles rose with him, dragging the chain of his cuffs along the bar around which it was hooked.

Derek snarled, “Who are you?”

Stiles wore a little smirk on his face, his eyes calm and assessing. “You know us. We’re just Stiles. Just a boy and his shadow.”

His voice sounded nothing like Stiles. The smile was all wrong.

“We’re going to fix this, alright?” Derek said, trying to keep eye contact, “You’re not going to be trapped in there. I don’t care how strong it is, we’re going to fix this.”

Stiles scoffed a little, bitter like he had never heard Stiles sound. He was straining at the chain between his cuffs and Derek could see where the links was giving.

“Poor Derek. Do you really believe that? You’ve never fixed anything in your whole life.”

Derek shook his head trying to dislodge this image, like this was just some illusion, a dream he could wake up from. “Just hold on, okay?” he said, “Just hold on. It’s…it’s going to be okay.”

Stiles snorted. “Maybe that’s just how you like things, though. _Broken_.” And the chain snapped. Stiles rotated his wrists and smiled triumphantly. “Now, if you’ll just let us out of here.”

Derek just stared at him. Did it think he would listen?

“Oh, don’t be like that, _Sourwolf_. I can make it worth your while.” He was leaning at close to Derek as possible through the bars. Derek was frozen in horror, struck dumb by the nogistune’s implication and the lewd look it wore on Stiles’ face. Of all the tactics, seduction?

“What, you think we don’t know everything about you? God, but we’re hung up on you. Pretty face, hot car, bad attitude. You’re the whole goddamn package for us.”

Stiles ran a hand along his collarbone and let it fall to his chest. “We’re pretty much _hot_ for you, Sourwolf, didn’t you know?”

Derek did know, on some level, that Stiles looked at him, sometimes, like that. Knew that the real Stiles, his Stiles, would never bring it up in a million years. He was too terrified of Derek to ever mention it. “I’m not listening to him. I’m going to protect you. I won’t let you hurt anyone.”

Stiles cheeks dimpled and Derek felt something rise in his throat and choke because that was Stiles’ smile, his huge, goofy grin, but the words he said were all wrong: “Really? Because we’d be happy to hurt you. If you asked nicely.”

“I’M NOT TALKING TO YOU,” Derek roared, feeling something snap in him. His fangs and claws were out before he could check himself and he was swiping at Stiles between the bars. Stiles stepped aside, dodging him with unnatural grace and speed. There was laughter on his face. The nogitsune was a kitsune, a trickster spirit, Derek knew. It was having fun.

“Is that how you’re going to play it? I can’t say we wouldn’t enjoy it, but isn’t our dad just outside? How would he feel you hurt us?”

Derek backed away, but he couldn’t make his claws retract, not in the face of this clear and present threat.

Stiles kept smiling, but raised his voice for the first time that night, “You’re never going to hurt us, Derek. It’s not in you. You’re too weak. You always were.”

And like a coward, Derek fled, barely stopping to tell the Sheriff, “Don’t go in there. It’s back,” before shutting himself in his car.

He did not pull away, but stayed in the parking while the sun rose, staring at the barred window where Derek knew Stiles and his shadow were being kept.


End file.
